To Fortify, To Defend
by huuflepxff
Summary: A collection of Harry/Hermione friendship stories. I love how strong their relationship is in the series, but we obviously can't see everything from them. This isn't going to go in any order, and fyi the first chapter is quite dark. R&R! Not Romance!
1. Bruises

A roller coaster. That was what she thought of. Jumping from the second story window, she gripped her best friend's hand as tight as she could, closed her eyes, and screamed.

 _It's just a ride,_ she thought, gripping his hand harder, screaming louder, spinning in midair. _That was a loop-de-loop,_ she thought, _you're strapped into a seat, you aren't actually falling…_

Thud.

They landed on hard ground. There wasn't much snow here, what had fallen remained stuck on tree branches high above. She realized she was still screaming. Harry was too. His hand was still clasped tightly around hers and she realized she was being thrown. And his screams were not screams, but incoherent words, threats, terror. And he was seizing and much stronger than her and he had a death grip on her hand and she hit the ground hard again.

She was up all night with him. She wiped the sweat from his face as he seized and screamed and threatened her. Sometimes he would grab her arm, hard, and throw her away. Others he would begin to cry and come back to himself at her touch. Or the sound of her voice. Or when his eyes would open and he would see her without seeing her. Sometimes there would be traces of Voldemort in the green orbs, something cold that she could not place. Others she saw just Harry, and they would plead silently with her to make it stop.

She wished she could.

The late December air made it hard to do anything but huddle for warmth by the fire. He noticed Hermione seemed to be avoiding talking to him, and he knew she was afraid he would lash out at her for breaking his wand.

He was too, and tried his best not to speak to her.

He knew it wasn't her fault. He knew it was better to be alive with no wand than be dead without one. He also knew how easy it would be to blame her, to get angry, especially with the tiny, metallic heartbeat of the horcrucx whispering in his ear.

But she didn't deserve that, so he stayed silent.

It was rare for him to speak first. He was sacred of himself, afraid of what he might say to her. Out of necessity, every few hours she would timidly ask him a question, _"What time do you think we should eat?"_ or _"Is it alright if I keep watch? I'm going to be reading anyway…"._

He hated that she was afraid of him. It made him feel more like Voldemort. It threw him back into the visions. He saw in her eyes the same fear he brought to his victims. It brought his nightmares into real life

But this was _Hermione_. She was the closest thing he had to a sister. She had always looked out for him; had always done her best to protect him. Wasn't it his duty to give her the same?

Then why did she look at him with such terror in her eyes?

He spoke first that night.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, almost directly into the campfire they had pitched at the mouth of the tent.

"Are you warm enough?"

Hermione looked at him long and hard. She was shivering violently. Her eyes were dull and dead, as though she was pleading for someone to take her place, even if for a little while. Like she needed a nice hot bath and a good long sleep and a warm meal and maybe a laugh or two.

She needed Ron.

She sighed, her voice almost inaudible,

"No".

Harry scooted over a few feet to close the gap between them. Pulling the blanket he had around his shoulders over hers too. He pulled her in close to him, and he felt her head droop down onto his shoulder. He felt her relax.

"Hermione, I'm sorry" he whispered as gently as he could. He felt her nod on his shoulder.

He took her hand, absently tracing along her skin. Just as he had done in the hospital wing when she lay petrified, centuries ago. Just as she had done when he was scared shitless during the Triwizard Tournament. Like a secret handshake of sorts. First his thumb over the top of her hand, and then along her wrist.

Then he saw the bruise.

At first he thought she had got it at Godric's Hollow. Thought it had been the snake. But as he pulled her sleeve back to take a better look, he noticed it was hand-like.

Someone had grabbed her wrist. Hard.

"Hermione, who did this to you? Did something happen when you went to the village this morning?" he knew she could sense the worry in his voice.

When she told him he had done it, he couldn't believe it.

Pulling his arm out from around her shoulders, he pulled her sleeve up the rest of the way. She was entirely purple and blue.

She told him it wasn't his fault, that she knew he would never hurt her on purpose.

He didn't believe her.

He thought about Ron that night; how he would kill him if he knew. No matter how much pain and suffering Ron had caused them, Harry knew he would never lay a finger on either of them.

He had never noticed how much _smaller_ Hermione was now compared to them. Although he knew –somewhere in the back of his mind- that Ron was taller than him and Hermione, he had always seen them to be the same _size_ , like they had been when they were eleven.

He probably chalked it up to the fact that Hermione had always been just as powerful, if not more so than the both of them. She might not have been as good as defense as Harry was, but she could more than hold her own in a duel. And in other areas of magic, no doubt she could best both of them blindfolded.

But she was _tiny._ At least compared to him. Definitely compared to Ron. Maybe Ron noticed she was a girl earlier than he did. Maybe his protectiveness, his unwillingness to allow Hermione to come on missions made a lot of sense.

If Harry's grip could bruise her like that, would spells affect her more? Would she be injured more easily?

He thought about Dolohov's curse back in fifth year, how it knocked her right out. How she was in the hospital for weeks.

 _No._ He thought, _She's not weak. She's stronger than she looks._

 _And, apparently, so am I._

He treated her differently after that. As though she might break.

He stopped playfully kicking her shins to get her attention. Stopped returning her bone crushing hugs in favour of lighter, more gentle ones.

It was driving her crazy.

"Harry," she told him, after he had very gently prodded her awake for her look-out shift, "You know you threw me _really_ hard, right?"

"Yeah Hermione I know I'm sorry I promise I won't do it again I-"

"Harry, that isn't what I'm getting at. What I'm saying is that you don't have to be so careful with me. You've been treating me like I'm made of glass and I frankly don't bruise nearly as easily as you think I do. You threw me _really_ hard"

He looked like he was going to be sick to his stomach. Nodding, he climbed into his bunk without another word.

"I don't like that you're afraid of me. It makes me feel more like him."

"Harry I'm not-"

"Hermione you are. Do you think I don't notice when you walk on eggshells around me? It's like you know I could explode any minute and I'm not denying it's true, it's just that maybe I'm being more careful around you because I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"Harry you aren't a monster."

"I know."

"The monster is just in your head."

"I know."

It's silent and it's still freezing inside the tent. Hermione pulls Ron's duvet tighter around her. It smells like him.

"You're like my sister Hermione. We're supposed to protect each other."

"We do."

"You do, I don't."

"Harry don't be ridiculous. I'd be dead a hundred times over if it wasn't for you."

"I'm just always so angry but it's his anger and I'm taking it out on you and I'm-"

"Harry, you didn't hurt me, he did. He _used_ you to hurt me. You were being possessed."

"I'm going to kill him."

"I know you will."


	2. Prats

Harry opened his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this well rested. at least at half-three in the morning. He couldn't recall the last time he'd woken in the night for anything besides a nightmare.

But Voldemort was gone. He had no worries, at least not for the next couple days. Ron had come back from the Burrow bearing news that he was welcome join the Order in rebuilding, but not a minute sooner than he was ready. He was content, despite the losses, just catching up on some sleep, at least for the time being.

It had been two days since the war had ended, and he'd slept through most of it in the Gryffindor dormitories. Ron was snoring in the bed beside him, feet hanging off the edge. Ron seemed to find comfort in being here, away from home, away from the grief of the death of his brother. Ron was big on escapism.

Ginny was quite the opposite. Ron had informed him that she had been staying in George's room, in Fred's empty bed. Harry knew to give her space. He knew in his heart, in his almost natural understanding of her that she needed to grieve her brother privately; he knew she would come to him when she needed to.

He wished all girls were that bloody easy.

Swinging his legs out of bed, his feet hit the cold stone floor. Sighing, he pulled a hooded jumper over his pajamas and stuffed his wand in the pocket. He made his way down the stairs from the boys dormitories into the common room, and then up the stairs to the girls. The stairs did not fall from beneath him, morphing into a slide under his feet as they normally would. The castle seemed to know him now, know his intentions. They had learned to speak to each other, finally.

The seventh-year girls room was smaller than the seventh-year boys, possibly because it only ever slept three occupants. Right now it only housed one.

Hermione Granger was sitting in bed, reading by lamplight. Harry knocked on the open door to indicate his presence. She did not jump.

"I saw you coming", she said, gesturing toward the open map beside her on the bed. Ron had persuaded Harry to let her borrow it at night; she had been having trouble sleeping.

"Hermione, what's the point of you having that if despite it, you still aren't going to get any rest?"

She looked up from her book with wide, bloodshot eyes. "Did you want it back? I'll be fine if you're scared too I-"

"No, Hermione… No, that's not what I meant. I just woke up and thought I'd check on you before using the loo, that's all."

"Oh, thanks."

"Are you sure you don't want to come in with me and Ron? There's plenty of room, you could stay on Neville's bed, I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"I don't want my light to keep you up." she turned back to her book.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"That's not what Ron told me. Come on Hermione, everyone knows we've all been on the run together for months. It's different, when you've been through what we have. Obviously Ron's mum has the sense to know you two aren't shagging while I'm three bloody feet from you."

Her neck snapped towards him so fast that he was afraid she'd get whiplash. Her face was scarlet, and he couldn't hold back the smirk on his face even though he knew it might mean the _actual_ death of him.

"Unless you have been this whole time, in which case, bravo, I haven't noticed a thing. Don't tell Ron, but Ginny and I once-"

" _Harry James Potter I do not want to know about your exploits!_ Please.. just… why would he tell you… ugh!" she was bright red and sputtering like a madwoman, "And get that smile off your face, it is not funny!"

He couldn't help but laugh. "Hermione honestly, I've never been this much of a _prat_ before and not ended up flying across the room. What gives?"

She didn't reply, if anything she just looked angrier.

"Is it because I just died to save you? Because you don't owe me for that, it's on the house. Curse away!"

She went from red to white so fast that Harry thought she had become suddenly ill.

"You didn't die for me."

"Well, you and about a thousand others but you get the idea. If it counts, I absolutely would have done the same if it had been just for you, but like I said-"

"Harry…" she was upset now, Harry could see tears brimming.

"Oh no Hermione I'm sorry… here.." taking his wand out of his pocket, he summoned a hankie and handed it to her, perching himself on the side of her bed.

"I'm sorry Harry… I know that it's really inconsiderate of me to be so upset. I mean you're the one who _died._ I'm just kind of a mess right now. With all that's happened during the battle… I guess I just haven't had time to process it."

"Hermione…" he took her hand and placed it on his chest, so she could feel his heartbeat. "See? Alive. I'm here to bother you until the end of time, I swear. Only one condition."

Harry could see the hint of a smile coming through. He was getting to her.

 _Finally._

"What's the condition?"

"You have to get some rest. So this," he said, grabbing her book and holding it high above his head, "is being confiscated for the night. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to have a wee. Goodnight, Hermione."

He left her looking utterly disgusted with him.

He found her not five minutes later in his bed, reading by wandlight, Ron's snoring loud in the background. It didn't seem to be bothering her.

"Yeah, didn't notice you were reading _Hogwarts: A History_. No amount of bloodshed could keep you away from that" he whispered, "now get out of my bed, go sleep in Seamus' or Neville's."

She looked up at him, "I want to be in the middle."

"Hermione… don't do this to me. I am very tired…"

"But I'm still afraid and I-"

He sighed, she won. He climbed into Neville's bed on the other side of her.

She returned his smirk from earlier, and put out her wand. "Goodnight Harry"

"Night Her – OUCH!" He had rolled over on some sort of spikey plant that Neville had been storing between his sheets. Hopefully it hadn't been something poisonous for the death-eaters to find. He heard Hermione laugh.

He thanked Merlin that Ginny was easy.


End file.
